


Oops

by Tiptapricot



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Stephanie Brown, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Dick Grayson is Robin, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Minor Injuries, Protective Siblings, Robin Swap 2020, Sibling Bonding, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, Stephanie Brown-centric, Time Travel, in the past at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23696536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiptapricot/pseuds/Tiptapricot
Summary: Steph wakes up in a dingy Gotham alley, her ears ringing and head pounding like a drum. When she opens her eyes to see a kid in scaly green shorts and a cape, she realizes her mistake on tonight's mission was much bigger than she realized.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Dick Grayson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 438
Collections: Dick & Steph, everybody loves dick





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t set anywhere specifically in continuity? Steph isn’t Batgirl but Bruce has died and she’s been Robin but like it’s not too far after that? Idk. I didn’t want her to be Batgirl bc it would’ve complicated stuff both with past explanations and character stuff so just pretend this is in its own weird little part of the timeline.

Steph has experienced a lot of things in her time as a bat. Aliens, metas, alternate realities, and a whole slew of deaths each with varying levels of the person in question actually  _ staying dead. _

There are a few things she hasn’t seen, of course, the main two being space and a bad meal from Alfred, but there are others, too. Time travel is one, but she’s not exactly itching to experience the butterfly effect firsthand in the same way she wants to see the stars.

But when has anything in her life ever gone as planned?

It’s a reconnaissance mission in early February, a stake out of a building with ties to a series of mysterious energy surges that have taken place over the last month. Steph is on her own, everyone else busy busting a newly formed drug ring with the GCPD across town, and she’s bored out of her mind.

It’s been three straight hours of cold and silence and  _ nothing, _ and Steph has half a mind to toss her binoculars away and be done with the whole thing. So, when a line of guarded trucks pulls up to the facility’s gates, she barely stops to think before she’s swinging down from her post. She waits for one of the trucks to slow long enough for her to slip underneath, and within minutes she’s inside. 

And that’s that.

It’s not like she expects much. It was a last minute assignment, a loose end to be tied up so everyone else could focus on the  _ real _ mission. And maybe Bruce ordered her to keep it strictly surveillance, but when has that stopped her? It's a joke mission anyway, the place barely has any security. 

And yes,  _ maybe _ she doesn’t call it in, but what’s the point? The others are busy, she doesn’t want to distract them. Besides, she can handle a few thugs on her own. It’ll be good exercise, something to get her blood pumping.

Except it ends up being more than that, doesn’t it?  _ Much _ more.

Steph waits for the trucks to unload and the voices to die down before she slips out. The room itself is almost empty, even though she knows that isn’t right. There are no guards, no guns, no drugs. The only things left in the main warehouse are the trucks, and even those have been left open and unguarded.

Weird. She was expecting  _ some _ kind of fight, at least a few unlucky guys left behind to watch the cars. Guess not. Maybe she’s just being overeager? Probably, it wouldn't be the first time. Steph shrugs, chalking the security up to the group’s lack of experience and slipping into the vents to continue further inside.

She doesn’t find much at first, just empty rooms too dark to make out more than a few lopsided cardboard boxes. When passing over one room, however, she catches a glimpse of something big and metal. She stops, and upon further inspection it looks to be some kind of machine. It doesn’t seem to be on, and the details are too hard to make out in the dark, but she makes a mental note to check it out later. She would’ve investigated more thoroughly, if not for the shout that echoes from down the hall a moment later.

_ There they are. _

She moves quickly, the sound of voices growing louder as she nears the next vent cover. When she’s close enough to see through the slats, she freezes.

_ Oh shit. _

That’s her first thought, followed immediately by  _ This was a bad idea, _ and  _ I should probably leave right now. _

Because there are easily a hundred people crammed into that room. Mob bosses, smugglers, drug dealers, traffickers; a virtual  _ sea _ of mugshots from Bruce’s case files. And the big guns too. The  _ really _ big guns. 

Falcone, Thorne, Black Mask, Two Face, and all the other bastards in between. Seeing them all squished shoulder to shoulder would be almost comical if she wasn’t alone.

But she is. 

And Steph has faced a good amount of them in the past, sure, but she’s always had backup, and if not left with her fair share of injuries. Bruises and bullet wounds and… worse.  She’d rather not hear her own heart flatline again, thank you very much.

The point is, she can’t handle this on her own, no matter how much she wants to convince herself she can. She’ll have to back out and call in the others, which means she’ll have to explain herself, which will lead to another lecture on following orders and,  _ ugh. _ Steph really doesn’t want to deal with that, but she can nurse her bruised ego later,  _ after _ they’ve taken down whatever crazy operation these assholes are trying to pull.

Maybe she can just lie and say she saw Two Face’s gnarly nose through a window or something. Probably not, but a girl can hope.

She’s about to start her slow scoot back out of the vents when her comm suddenly crackles to life.

“Spoiler--hear me?” It’s Dick, at least she thinks so. His voice sounds more like garbled static than anything.

“Nightwing?” She whispers. She thought the comms were being filtered through Barbara tonight, just in case Steph decided to get on and sing the entirety of All Star again like she had the last time she was bored.

“Don’t engage with the building.” There’s a tone of panic when he says that, and something that sounds like a gunshot in the background. “Repeat, do not--” but there’s a pop before he can finish, almost like a soda can being cracked open, and his voice cuts out.

“Nightwing? Hello?” Steph feels her heart sink at the silence. “Shit.” She has to get out of here  _ now. _

Except she leans forward too hard when she pushes back, and the vent cover comes loose beneath her, and she’s suddenly running for her life under a hail of bullets.

The universe really hates her tonight, huh?

Steph doesn’t know how she finds herself in the machine room in the following confusion, just that she’s crouched behind a pile of wooden crates with a gash in her shoulder and another on her side where a bullet grazed her ribs.

There’s yelling coming from the hallway, pounding footsteps and orders to search and kill. It probably won’t be long until they find her, but even if it’s not, what can she do? She can’t exactly pull off a daring escape with only one working arm. The wounds themselves aren’t deadly, at least she doesn’t  _ think _ they are, but they sure as hell are doing their best to make up for that.

She tries her comm again, the static that answers setting off a flush of panic that twists painfully in her throat. She looks around for a window, for any kind of escape, but everything is either barred or boarded or just plain  _ not there.  _ God, Bruce is going to kill her if she dies here.

Steph is weighing the pros and cons of trying to rip her way through one of the boarded up windows, arm be damned, when she feels her stomach lurch painfully. 

_ “Crap.” _ She mutters.

The nausea really shouldn’t surprise her, considering the adrenaline and blood loss, but it does. She leans back against the crates, hissing through her teeth as her head starts to spin. She can't think straight enough to remember if she stocked a pack of anti-nausea pills, much less where they’d be if she did. Everything hurts and she doesn’t have a plan and…  _ fuck. _ It’s so hard to think.

Her last fully lucid thought is to activate her distress beacon, hoping that whatever happened with the others they can still make it in time. She remembers fumbling with the button on her belt, but everything else is a blur.

Black Mask enters with some guy she doesn’t know, the machine comes to life with a crackle of energy, and there are murmurs of a plan to destroy Batman, to kill him. Steph knows she can’t let that happen, so she runs. She hears a shout of surprise and feels a shirt twist under her fingertips as she tackles the guy to the ground. Or at least… that’s what she  _ meant _ to do, but instead he trips like an idiot and sends the two of them headfirst into the machine.

And there’s light, and she’s light, and then there’s nothing.

The next thing she knows she’s waking up in a dingy Gotham alley, ears ringing, head pounding like a drum, and a foot prodding lightly against her ribs.

“Who’re you?” A voice asks, and Steph knows the second she opens her eyes to see a kid in scaly green shorts and a cape that she’s about to know much more about time travel than she ever wanted to.

~•~

The girl comes out of nowhere. One moment Dick is sitting on a rooftop, and the next there’s a blinding flash of light and a body lying in the alley. He knows he should stay put, Bruce  _ told _ him to, but his curiosity gets the better of him.

He’s cautious, he’s been warned about magic users and people with powers, so he tries not to get  _ too _ close. The girl is blonde, hair spilling out from under a purple hooded cloak, and she has a mask covering the bottom half of her face. She definitely  _ looks _ like a supervillain, but Dick’s never heard of someone that matches her description. Maybe she’s new? But why would she teleport here? Why is she unconscious?  _ Is _ she unconscious?

Oh.  _ Oh. _

The realization that he might be looking at a dead body, regardless of its villain status, makes Dick squirm. He takes a step back, worrying his lip, before leaning over to nudge her tentatively with the toe of his boot. Nothing. He prods a little harder, relief flooding through him when she opens her eyes with a groan shortly after.

_ Not dead. _

And just like that he’s curious again.

_ Who are you? Where did you come from? What do you do? Are you evil? _

The questions spill out one after the other, he can’t help it. He’s been in the cape for a few months now, but this is his first solo encounter without Bruce hovering over his shoulder. When the girl doesn’t immediately jump to strangle him, Dick squats down to look her in the eye. 

She doesn’t answer his questions, just squints at him as he talks, like she’s trying to make sense of the situation. After a moment she shakes her head and tries to stand up, swaying as she does so. 

Dick’s next question dies in his throat.  _ Because she doesn’t look like a supervillain anymore. _ In fact she looks… sick, wincing when she leans against a dumpster to steady herself.

“Are you alright?” He asks, getting tentatively to his feet.

The girl pauses, glancing over at him. Her brows tighten for a second before he hears her sigh.

“Are you really Robin?” She asks.

“What?”

“Are you really Robin, or just a fanboy?” She repeats.

Dick blinks once, twice. Is she being serious? He would’ve thought the costume would’ve tipped her off. “Last time I checked I’m the only kid in Gotham running around in a cape, If that’s what you’re asking.”

The girl chuckles and he sees her tense again, hand going down to clutch her side. “Right, right, yeah. My bad.” 

She starts pulling herself along the alley wall, pausing every now and then to take a deep breath. Dick just watches, trying to puzzle out what’s happening.

“Um… are you a villain?” He pipes up after a moment.

The girl stops, glancing back at him. “Wouldn’t I have attacked you if I was?”

“I mean, I guess. I just assumed, with the costume and all.” He gestures to the cloak. “Why are you dressed like that then?”

“I’m a hero,” the girl grunts as she takes another step, “like you and Batman.”

“Really?” Dick narrows his eyes skeptically. “Then why have I never heard of you?”

“Uh… I don’t really know if I can answer that one.”

“Why not?”

The girl laughs again, breathy and quiet. “Crap, okay.” She turns to face him fully, one arm keeping her braced against the dumpster. “I’m gonna cut to the chase here, because I’m not really sure what else to do, but I know who you are.”

Dick stiffens, taking a few instinctual steps back.  _ Shoot. _ Had he messed up recently? How could someone—no it must be a bluff, that’s it, Bruce has been too careful with him for someone to figure it out this fast.

“You’re lying.” He says, hoping his voice sounds confident.  It doesn’t.

The girl shakes her head. “I know this is totally out of left field for you, I get it, but I’m not. You’re Dick Grayson.”

His eyes go wide, his heart leaping into his throat. She was telling the truth, and anyone with the resources and smarts to figure out his identity is dangerous. 

“How do you know that?” He stutters, suddenly wishing very much that he stayed on the roof.

The girl waves a hand dismissively. “I’m not a spy or anything, don’t freak out. I’m from the future. At least... I’m pretty sure I am? Unless you've somehow been de-aged several decades. How old  _ are _ you, by the way?”

Dick just stares, mouth open in shock. She’s from the  _ future. _ She’s a  _ hero _ from the  _ future, _ who  _ knows _ him. No, wait, he can’t get ahead of himself. He doesn’t know if she’s telling the truth. The future? Time travel? It… why did he believe that?

“Prove it.” He says, crossing his arms. At least  _ acting _ strong makes him feel a little better.

“What?”

“Prove you’re from the future and I’ll tell you how old I am.”

The girl gives him an unimpressed look. “And how am I supposed to do that, Junior? Tell you which bowleramas are gonna be closed in five years?”

Dick feels his cheeks heat. She has a good point.

“How about this.” The girl pulls something from her belt, a handful of smoke pellets, the same ones Bruce uses.

“Where’d you get those?” Dick asks. The girl cocks a brow, as if to say  _ Guess. _ “Oh,” Dick smiles sheepishly, “right. So do you work with B in the future then? Like me?”

The girl shrugs. “I wouldn’t say  _ with _ him. I tried to once, but it didn’t work out. Now we’re more like… begrudging associates.”

Dick snorts. “Is that how you know who I am? Do we work together?”

The girl pauses midway through putting the pellets back, a look of realization passing over her face. “I, uh, yeah. Kind of. I probably shouldn’t tell you more than that. Besides, it’s your turn.”

Dick gives her a quizzical look, and she sighs again, one hand coming up to cup around her mask. 

“Age check please Mr. Grayson, repeat, age check.” She says, doing her best rendition of a fuzzy walkie-talkie.

Dick lets out a laugh. “Right! I’m, uh, I’m ten.”

The mirth instantly vanishes from the girl’s eyes. “Really? Oh Jesus.” She whispers. “That means I’m… crap. Alright… okay. No, no, you know what? I can handle this. It’s gonna be fine.” She seems to be talking mostly to herself, determination building in the draw of her brow.

She grunts as she pushes off the dumpster, teetering for a second. Dick reflexively reaches out to stop her from falling, recoiling when she flinches at the contact. That’s when he sees the dark splotch on the shoulder of her cape. He looks down and sees a smear of red on his gloves and sucks in a sharp breath.

“You’re hurt.” He says. The girl nods absentmindedly.

“It’s nothing too bad, I just feel kind of out of it.”

Somehow he finds that hard to believe.

“I have some bandages in my belt, I think, maybe I can help?”

“That would be great.” 

Dick nods. “Yeah… yeah okay. Uh, do you have a grapple? I’m not sure I can lift you.”

She nods, unhooking something from her belt. The grapple gun looks kind of like the one Dick has, just not as clunky, like a few of Bruce’s prototypes.  _ Cool,  _ he thinks to himself.

She fires off her line and he follows, landing easily on the rooftop a moment later. The girl, however, rolls roughly to a stop, breathing hard. When she moves to sit up Dick notices another patch of red on the side of her abdomen. Crap. She’s  _ really _ hurt.

He kneels down and fumbles with his belt, pulling out a compact wad of bandages. He hesitates when he reaches out to start wrapping, caught off guard by the sharp scent of blood.  _ Just pretend it’s a test dummy,  _ he reminds himself,  _ just pretend it’s a test dummy. _

“So… what’s the future like?” He asks, winding the first strip tight around the wound on her shoulder.

“I don’t think I can tell you any more than I have, time travel rules and all that.” The girl says, and Dick’s almost sure he sees a slight smile under the mask.

“Yeah okay. Can I at least have a name? That way we’re even.” He can’t help the hopefulness that edges in. He’s talking to a hero from the future for Pete’s sake, how cool is that?

The girl gives him an odd look. “Yeah… alright. You can call me Spoiler.”

Dick cocks a brow. “Spoiler? That’s your name?”

“The only one  _ you’re _ going to know, yeah.” And oh that’s  _ definitely _ a smirk.

Dick can’t help but smile back. There’s something about this girl, about  _ Spoiler, _ that puts him at ease. Like an old friend. Or, more accurately, a  _ future _ friend.

Gosh. This is so cool.

~•~

When Dick finishes wrapping her wounds, Steph excuses herself to the other side of the roof. It’s mostly to gulp down a handful of painkillers and anti nausea pills (bless Alfred for restocking her belt after all), but also because she needs to make a plan.

She’s in the past, alone, with a threat and a ten year old who shouldn’t know she exists. Because she  _ doesn’t, _ not yet at least. Dick’s only been Robin for about a year at most, if she remembers right, which brings with it a whole other mess of issues. The least of which being that  _ he’s _ alone, and as a result Steph is absolutely  _ itching _ to slap the Bruce of this time.

Then there’s the fact that if  _ she’s _ here, the guy that came with her probably is too. She didn’t get the whole plan back at the warehouse, too focused on keeping her lunch down, but she remembers the gist of it: the guy was hired to come back in time and kill Batman in his early days. A pretty ballsy plan overall, and just the right flavor of what the hell for Gotham.

What is she supposed to do about it though? It was obviously planned well in advance, seeing as they had the time to  _ build a time machine,  _ and she has no idea where the guy is or what his plans are beyond ‘kill Batman.’ She can’t let Bruce die, obviously, but she also has to be careful with what she does. Who knows how much damage she’s done to the timeline already, meeting a preteen Dick Grayson before she’s even born. 

She gave him a name, but she’s second guessing that decision now. How are things going to work when she pops up a decade or so from now, no memory of tonight’s activities and a good handful of years younger? Why didn’t she just say she was a new hero right at the start and hightail it out of there?

_ Because he would’ve followed, because her head had felt like it got hit by a bus, because how do you react when you see a face straight out of the family photo book? _

The whole thing is making her head hurt all over again. She isn’t meant for this kind of thing, time travel and assassination plots and all this other crap. Steph closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She needs to focus. Stopping the assassin takes top priority, she’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.

“Hey, are you done with… whatever you’re doing?” Dick calls over.

Steph takes another deep breath and turns, purpose in her steps. When she gets to Dick she puts a hand on his shoulder and kneels down. 

It’s disconcerting to see him like this. It  _ is _ Dick, she can see him in the black curls and warm brown skin and the mole above his eyebrow, but it’s not  _ her _ Dick. This one is round and small, dimples but no smile wrinkles, bruises but no scars, and he moves differently. He’s lighter, more electric. He can’t stay still. He kept adjusting himself when dressing her wounds, and even now he’s tapping his heel against the roof. 

Her Dick is still like that sometimes, but in his own way. He’ll dance while baking and hum on patrol and go on a ten mile run on a whim. It’s the energy of someone who’s lived their life, who knows how to channel it.

While this Dick might not be  _ her _ Dick, he’s still a hero, he’s still Robin. He knows what he’s doing, maybe not perfectly, maybe not to the level she’d like, but she still has something to work with. He seems to trust her too, which is a plus. Maybe too quick of a turn around to be smart, but he’s a kid, she can’t exactly hold it against him.

“Do you know where B is?” She asks. “This is important.”

“Yep! He should be downtown, I think.” Dick says. “He just started this new case around chemical smuggling a few days ago.

“Then why aren’t you with him?”

“Oh…” his mask pinches and there’s a flicker of a frown. “I’m not allowed to do any super dangerous stuff yet, so he left me here to watch this area. There’s a bar on seventh, so I escort people home and stuff, and... and sometimes there’s muggers.” His voice slowly peters out into a mumble, his gaze dropping to his shoes.

It takes Steph a moment to realize he’s  _ embarrassed. _ About what, though, she’s not exactly sure.

“Hold on, forget Bats for a second.” Dick looks up with wide eyes. “What’s got you all pouty?”

“Well… I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’m doing enough, I guess. I’m not on B’s level yet, I get that, but I still wish I could help out more. I mean, you seem like  _ you’re _ doing pretty well. You have all this gear, and a cool costume, and you’re in the  _ past!” _

Steph grimaces. “Yeah, well it’s not really as fun as you make it sound.”

“So? You’re still doing the important stuff, the  _ real _ hero stuff. I want to do that too.”

Steph’s stomach drops at the words ‘real hero.’ On one hand, it’s nice to be getting a compliment from someone right off the bat, but on the other, she doesn’t really feel like she deserves it. 

Things went worse than they usually do tonight, and she knows she’ll be facing some kind of hard reprimand when she gets back.  _ If _ she ever gets back, which is a whole other can of worms she doesn’t want to touch right now. While Dick’s words are meant to make her feel better, they end up sounding more bittersweet. But that’s a little too much to be laying on an elementary schooler.

Steph cracks a strained smile. “Everyone starts somewhere, dude. You think Mr. Vengeance began his career taking down huge corporations? Or mutant monsters? ‘Cause I have it on pretty good authority that he got his butt kicked for the first month.”

Dick smiles a little at that. 

“If I can impart one piece of my vast knowledge upon you,” Steph continues, “it’s that you’re the one that gets to decide if you’re a hero or not. What you’re doing is already plenty important, and besides, you’re doing better than I was when I started. You’ll get to do the big stuff eventually, but you still have to work for that, you have to make yourself the hero you want to be. There’s a reason you have a—”  _ Legacy? History? Line of heroes under your name? _ “A, uh… never mind. Just, don’t sweat it, alright? You’ll do fine.” She gives Dick an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder and hopes he can tell she’s smiling.

He gets the gist of it, at least, because his face lights up like a Christmas tree. 

“Do you really mean that?”

Steph smiles wider and pats his arm, standing up. “Of course!” And Dick  _ beams. _ She can’t help but laugh at that, his mood is infectious.

Steph really just gave a pep talk to Mr. Boy Wonder himself, didn’t she? She feels like some kind of cheesy sitcom character, telling a kid to go out and chase their dreams. She guesses it’s what some people need to hear, though. Hell, she probably would’ve had a  _ way _ better time if someone encouraged her like that. 

At least she feels a bit less worried now. She knows where Bruce is,  _ generally, _ so she can head for downtown and scope out the area. She’ll either catch the assassin if she sees him or step in if he tries to make a move. Simple. She can do this.

Steph stretches slightly, testing her shoulder. The painkillers have done their work, it just feels like a bad bruise now. She still feels a little lightheaded, but she doesn’t really have time to remedy that. Maybe she can pick up a Gatorade on the way across town or something.

“Well, it’s been fun, but I gotta make sure my trip to the past isn’t for nothing. Stay safe tonight little D!”

Her grapple is already in hand, aimed at a building across the street, when a gloved hand wraps tight around her wrist.

Dammit.

“Wait! Where are you going? I want to help!”

Steph drops her arm with a sigh and turns back to Dick.

“I have a guy to fight.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t—listen, I probably shouldn’t have talked to you in the first place, and I don’t want to mess things up any more than I have, so you can’t come with me. Besides, you aren’t supposed to do dangerous stuff right? Pretty sure this counts.” Steph explains. 

She’s fully aware she’s being a hypocrite, she disobeys warnings all the time (usually with a good outcome, at least eventually), but she doesn’t want to put Dick in harm’s way. 

What if he gets hurt? Killed? She doesn’t want to know what  _ that _ would do to the timeline. As much as she wants to corrupt little golden boy Dick, tell him to screw the rules and do what he wants, she just… doesn’t want to take that risk. Not right now.

God, she hates being the responsible one.

Dick deflates a bit, letting go of her wrist. “You’re sure?”

“You’re gonna do great things Dick, really.” Steph’s eyes brush briefly over the R on his chest and she swallows. “See you.” And with that, she turns and steps off the edge.

~•~

The alert starts beeping again and Bruce sighs, switching on the GPS. The signal has been cutting in and out for a while now, never giving him a clear fix on its source. It’s eerily similar to the distress beacon he put in Dick’s belt, but not quite the same frequency. Somehow it still managed to register in the batcomputer, although incorrectly, like it’s not really there. That’s concerning on its own, but more so considering the only solid location he’s managed to nail down is along the  _ same _ street Dick should be patrolling. 

It’s  _ not  _ Dick though, his beacon isn’t active, Bruce checked. Not that the beeping didn’t cause him to abandon his investigation in a momentary panic when it first started, but that’s besides the point.

He thought picking Dick up would help, if nothing else just to give him peace of mind, but when he reached Dick’s post he was gone. His GPS tracker isn’t registering right either, which is only cause for more concern.

He’s been trying to figure out who, or what, could be giving off the signal, with no results. It definitely seems to be his tech, but he never made this specific beacon, so where is it coming from?

Further digging showed two energy spikes earlier that night, coinciding with when the signal started transmitting. One near where Dick was, the other a few blocks off from Gotham Park. Nothing has been able to tell him what those spikes were. They weren’t radiation or electricity or heat, but instead something Bruce has never seen before, something that had the power to knock out some of the best tech on the planet. 

Bruce enters another command into the computer, bringing up Gotham’s map. Just like before, there’s a small red dot flickering and lagging on the screen, but this time, it’s accompanied by a second. Bruce pauses, leaning closer. It’s Dick’s tracer, struggling against interference, but clearly  _ there. _

He pulls down his cowl as he races for the Batmobile. The trackers are on Main Street, near downtown.  _ Right where he was investigating. _ The engine purrs to life, and as Bruce peals out of the cave with a squeal of rubber, he wonders just what the hell is happening in his city tonight.

~•~

“You sure this is the place?” Steph asks.

“Yep.” Dick settles on the edge of the building, swinging his legs absentmindedly. “Saw it in Bruce’s files.”

“And you’re sure I can’t convince you to go home?”

“I can’t just let a mysterious vigilante roam the streets unchecked, can I?” Dick says, smirking cheekily. Steph huffs out a laugh, smiling to herself.

It took him all of three minutes to come after her, and they’ve been arguing on and off since. She’s actually glad he’s here, even if he’s being more of a little shit than she expected. It’ll be nice to have some backup.

They’re perched on top of an apartment complex, watching the building across the street. The sign over the entryway reads  _ Milton’s Pharmaceuticals _ in big neon letters. Or at least, it  _ would, _ except the ‘P’ and ‘H’ are blown out, so instead Steph is trying not to laugh at the proudly titled  _ ‘armaceutical’ _ company. They’ve found a pretty good vantage point between two rather menacing gargoyles on the apartment’s edge, and now all they have to do is wait. 

Bruce is inside somewhere, according to Dick, and as much as Steph wants to go in and grab him to avoid the hassle of keeping watch, she’s pretty sure the less contact she has with past people, the better.

There’s almost no one out at this hour. There’s the occasional pedestrian walking home from a late night shift or party, and the once in a while a car, but otherwise the streets are empty. It leaves an unusual quietness for Gotham, one Dick seems more than happy to fill. 

He talks about the sky and the street and the people, talks about the cat he saved from a tree last week and the friends he’s making in school. Steph doesn’t mind. It’s nice to have some background noise, and it’s obviously keeping him occupied. She’d talk too if she wasn’t so nervous.

“What am I looking for by the way?” He asks after a few minutes. “Why are we here?” 

Steph puts down her binoculars and leans away from the edge. She considers not saying anything, but, well… she’s already come this far. Dick’s here and he’s not going anywhere, so what does she have to lose? 

“Someone else came to the past with me, an assassin a crime group hired to kill Bruce. Pretty sure he’s gonna try and ambush him, so we’re going to stop him.” It’s probably an oversimplification, but she doesn’t really want to explain the immense importance of the whole thing right now.

Dick’s face looks surprised for a moment before it hardens, his whole demeanor shifting into something much more professional. “No one’s killing Bruce.” He says.

Steph shakes her head. “No. They’re not. We’re gonna make sure of that.”

“What does this guy look like?”

“I didn’t actually… get the best look at him.” Steph admits. “Just look out for any suspicious people, I guess.”

Dick hums in recognition and turns back to the street, his shoulders tight, his legs still. Steph watches him for a moment, a tinge of apprehension blooming in her chest, before following suit. 

The next few minutes pass in relative silence. It’s more strained, the joking air from before gone now that they’re both on high alert. 

As Steph waits, the reality of the situation starts to sink in. She has to save Batman.  _ Batman. _ That wouldn’t  _ usually _ worry her, seeing as he’s already ‘died’ once before, and she knows damn well Bruce can take care of himself, but it’s the circumstances this time around that are putting her on edge. 

If Bruce dies tonight, dies at this point in the past, _everything’s_ fucked. There’s no other way to put it. Just off the top of her head, Steph can list about fifty things that would just be _completely_ erased from the timeline (timestream? She doesn’t know the vocab). No Batgirl, for starters, and no second or third Robin either. Hell, Damian won’t even be _born._ If there’s ever been a night not to mess something up, it’s this one.

_ But what if she does anyway? _

No, she can’t think like that. Steph takes a few deep breaths and shakes her head. She has to stay calm, look on the bright side. It’s no different than any other mission she’s been on, right? Sure, it might be the fate of her entire timeline on the line, but she can still do this. 

Steph clicks her binoculars up a few levels, zooming in to scan the windows for any signs of movement. Keep busy, focus. There doesn’t seem to be anyone inside. The windows are dark and Steph hasn’t even gotten the barest flash of a cape yet. That’s not exactly surprising for Bruce, though, she just hopes the assassin isn’t as good.

Something gives her pause when she’s sweeping over the third floor, though, and she stops. She’s suddenly acutely aware of just how quiet Dick has been. Too quiet for the kid she met tonight.

She glances over to see his face scrunched in discomfort, his hands balled in tight fists against his lap.

“Woah, hey… you alright?” She asks.

Dick flinches, apparently caught up in his own thoughts.

“What? Yeah, sorry. That just… what you said about the guy kind of reminded me of what happened to my parents.” 

Oh.

Crap.

“Dick,” Steph reaches over to touch his arm, “Bruce isn’t gonna die.”

“I know! I know.” Dick shrugs off the touch. “I mean, he’s Batman! He deals with this stuff all the time. He’s strong, he’s smart, he’s—you’re even here! A hero from the future who’s come to save him. He’ll be… I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He obviously isn’t listening to himself, considering how panicked he looks. Steph can understand why though, and she feels like a total moron.

For  _ this _ Dick, it’s only been a few years since that night at the circus. Everything’s still recent and painful and raw, and she just told him someone else is trying to kill his guardian,  _ again. _

Steph musters up her best confidant voice, puts on a strong face, and gives Dick a playful punch to the arm. “You’d better believe he’s gonna be fine. You think I’d let the old bastard bite it before he meets  _ me? _ No way he’s opting out of that experience.”

Dick snorts. “You mean it?”

“Yep.”

He gives her a hesitant smile. “Thanks.”

Something warm and soft blooms in the pit of Steph’s stomach then, something oddly fond. “No problem.” She says.

Their focus shifts back to the building, the silence comfortable this time. They pass a few more minutes like that, the wind ruffling the edge of Steph’s cape.

But this was never meant to be a night of relaxation.

Something small and hard hits Steph in the back of the head, making her let out a yelp of pain. 

“What the--?” She turns, a curse on the tip of her tongue, and sees the explosive just as it finishes rolling to a stop.

Shit.

~•~

Dick’s not completely sure what happens. One moment he’s sitting on the roof, and the next, Spoiler is roughly yanking him off into a freefall as the world bursts open in a mess of heat and sound above them. 

She must manage to shoot her grapple, because they don’t splatter on the sidewalk like he expected. Instead they tumble straight through the window of one of the cafes along the street, skidding along the floor and into a table. Spoiler mostly cushions his fall, and he hears her grunt at the impact. As soon as they come to a stop she moves to get up, pulling Dick to his feet as she goes.

“What  _ was _ that?” He asks, breathless.

“I think our assassin found us. C’mon!” She tugs him back towards the window, craning her neck to look back up at the apartment. Tenants are flooding out into the street, screams and shouts of confusion filling the air. 

“Where the hell is he?” She hisses.

As if to answer, someone swings down from one of the light posts and lands heavily on the sidewalk to their left. It’s a tall man, lithe but muscled, a thick pack strapped to his hip. He’s dressed almost normally, except for the full black mask covering his face.

“There you are, Little Bat,” he says, his voice deep and gruff like sandpaper, “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

“Didn’t know I had a fan.” Spoiler spits, shifting into a fighting stance.

“I’m more of a critic, actually. Do you have any idea how many plans you messed up tonight?”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” she mock pouts, “did I spoil something for you? Who would’ve expected that!”

The assassin doesn’t seem to find that very funny, as what can only be described as a snarl escapes from under the mask as he lunges forward. Spoiler dodges easily, sending a hard elbow into his back. He grunts, stumbling, before twisting around to give her a sharp hook to the jaw. The punch sends her slamming into the wall of the cafe, and Dick flinches at the crack.

_ What is he doing? Why isn’t he fighting? _

When the assassin turns to look at him, he realizes why.

_ “Someone else came to the past with me, an assassin a crime group hired to kill Bruce.” _

_ “This wasn’t an accident. Someone sabotaged that trapeze.” _

Dick takes a step back.

“Well would you look at that. We’ve got the baby bird here too. Aren’t you cute. Feel like getting a beating tonight kid?”

“Lay off, asshole!” Spoiler slams into the guy’s side, sending him toppling onto the sidewalk. She’s breathing hard, a wet spot seeping through the front of her mask. She grabs Dick’s hand and helps him step through the broken window, pushing him behind her when the assassin gets to his feet again.

He gives his jaw an experimental pop. “You’re gonna regret that.” He says, flicking a small disc out of his sleeve. It skitters to a halt at their feet and Spoiler practically picks him up in her attempt to move them away.

There’s another blinding explosion and wave of heat and then Dick is being dragged to his feet and ushered up the sidewalk.

“Move, move,  _ move.” _ He hears Spoiler muttering as she tugs him into an alley.

“Where do you two think you’re going?” The assassin calls after them.

Spoiler fumbles with her grappling gun, wrapping an arm around Dick’s waist. His head is still reeling from the explosion, so he barely notices until he feels the familiar sensation of being tugged upwards.

They land in a heap together on the rooftop, Spoiler sucking in each breath sharp and hard.

“Are you alright?” Dick asks, lugging her up by the armpits.

She nods in a rush. “Keep going. Gotta get him away from the civilians.”

They stumble across the roof, and not a moment too soon. Dick hears the assassin land behind them, and there’s the sound of metal skidding across concrete before another blast of hot air sends both him and Spoiler careening off the roof. They crash through another window and Dick cringes as glass bites into his shoulder and thigh as he lands. The adrenaline gets him to stand up, his muscles screaming in protest. 

They’re in some kind of office building, desks and cardboard boxes squished into every corner.

When he turns back to the window, he sees the assassin readying for the jump across, and he panics.

This is nothing like the training he’s had with Bruce, this is nothing like muggers or bank robbers, this is real and dangerous and Dick doesn’t know what to  _ do. _

There’s a light thump and Dick realizes with a start that the assassin is in the room now, is walking across the broken glass fanning out from the window, shards crunching with each step. 

“Why are you guys running?” He asks, like the answer isn’t obvious. “I mean, I was hired to kill Batman, what are you guys gonna do?”

Dick shoots Spoiler a look, only to find her doubled over a table. She’s clutching at her side, fresh red seeping through the bandages, her eyes screwed shut in a grimace. She doesn’t look in any condition to  _ stand, _ much less fight. 

Which means it’s up to Dick. 

He swallows thickly, turning his attention back to the assassin. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and eases into one of the fighting stances Bruce has walked him through.

“Aw, look at that. Little Boy Wonder wants to protect his friend. How do you expect to beat me kid? You’re way out of your class.”

Dick glares, settling further into the stance.

_ “Keep your breathing under control. Focus on your target. Don’t get distracted,  _ **_be_ ** _ a distraction.” _

Be a distraction, be flashy, catch the enemy off guard.  _ Make it a performance. _

Dick can do that. He can perform the part of a real hero. Who knows, if he tries hard enough, maybe he’ll even fool himself.

“Come at me, I dare you.” He hears himself say. It somehow manages to sound half confident.

The assassin laughs. “If you insist.”

He’s quick, but Dick is quicker. When he comes in for a punch, Dick waits, then sidesteps at the last moment, ducking to grab the assassin’s ankle and using his momentum against him. He manages to get the man off balance, sending him careening headfirst into a wall.

“You little shit!” The assassin yells, stumbling back around for another blow.

Dick does the same thing, this time giving him a solid kick to the back of the knees. He can’t help but feel a small twinge of pride at the fact that he hasn’t gotten himself killed yet.

“That worked just as well the first time, good job!” He says, tone mocking.

He manages to do the same routine a few more times, sticking to mostly dodging and ducking in between, with the occasional punch or kick thrown in. It only serves to make the man more angry, his insults getting worse each time Dick gets him to face plant into something new.

He supposes he got a bit too cocky, because the next time he goes in for a trip, he’s instead met with a hand wrapping tight around his throat.

“Robin!” He hears Spoiler yell.

His fingers scrape uselessly at the assassin’s hand, the man’s grip only growing tighter. Dick chokes, gasping for air. What had Bruce told him about getting out of a choke? He can’t remember, he can’t breathe, he can’t—

The assassin releases him with a sudden cry of pain, stumbling back. Dick gulps in several lungfuls of air, coughing harshly. When he looks up, it’s to see Spoiler hanging off of the assassin’s back, her arm keeping him in a tight chokehold. There’s a batarang sticking out of his hand, a line of blood dripping sluggishly down over his wrist.

The assassin flails and squirms, swinging Spoiler around like a ragdoll as he tries to loosen her grip, but she manages to stay on.

“Knock him down, Robin!” She yells. “Now!”

Dick doesn’t hesitate. He scrambles across the floor, tackling the assassin’s ankles out from under him. The man hisses out a curse as he topples foreword, slamming hard into the floor. Dick stays wrapped around his legs, restraining them. Spoiler hurriedly yanks something from her belt, keeping one arm in a death grip around the assassin’s neck, and the next thing Dick knows the man’s wrists are wrapped tight with a coil of metal wire. She does the same with his legs, and once they’re sure he won’t be going anywhere, they step back.

Spoiler slides down the wall into a sitting position, breathing hard.

“Well… I’m glad  _ that’s _ over. That was one hell of a fight dude.” She says, giving Dick a weak thumbs up. “Good job.”

Dick somehow manages to muster a small smile. “Thanks.” He croaks, wincing when his throat aches in protest.

“It’s not over yet.” The assassin remarks from the floor.

“Glad you checked off another supervillain bingo box, but you kind of don’t have a say in that.” Spoiler kicks him roughly in the leg. “Now shut up and let us have this.”

“Let me explain something to you, Little  _ Bat.” _ He hisses. “When you came through the machine with me, you threw everything off.”

Spoiler huffs.  _ “Good job me.” _

“I was supposed to arrive here almost a week later, when Batman would investigate the pharmaceutical stores for a second time.” The assassin continues. “I was supposed to plant a bomb and set it off when he was inside, flattening the building and killing him before he could become the annoyance he is in our time.”

“Well, big boo hoo, you couldn’t kill him.”

The assassin chuckles, “Here’s the funny thing though…  _ I still have the bomb.” _

Spoiler shoots to her feet, eyes wide.

“If I can’t take out the Bat himself,” the assassin rolls over, and the eyes under the mask are wild, “I guess I’ll have to settle for his sidekicks.”

_ The pack on his leg. _ Dick thinks, and then there’s the flash of a trigger in the assassin’s hand, and Spoiler is diving across the room for him, and everything goes bright bright bright  _ bright. _

~•~

Steph’s ears are ringing. Her throat tastes like soot and dust, and she’s vaguely aware that she’s moving. Crawling. Her hands hurt.

She’s dragging something with her, too, something pressed close to her chest, something warm and heavy, something she can’t leave behind.

Grass. Concrete. When did her gloves rip? Her palms are wet. Not water, blood, she can feel it seeping between her fingers. It’s not her blood. How does she know that?

Oh. She’s holding someone. Right. Dick. It’s Dick. She’s in the past and there was an explosion and his head is bleeding and—

Steph collapses against the asphalt, breathing hard.

How did she—did they—get out?  _ Window. Tree. Lawn. _

Ouch.

She can hear sirens, too loud sirens. That’ll be the cops, or the ambulance, or both. Batman is probably on his way too. She remembers she doesn’t want him to see her. That would be bad. Time stuff is weird like that.

She has to… Steph squints, trying to focus. She has to hide.

She looks down, feeling around shakily for a pulse on Dick’s neck. Heart. Beat. He’s okay. She lays him down, careful, gentle, he’s hurt, and tries to stand up. It doesn’t go very well the first time, and she ends up lying on her side instead. The second time gets her upright, but then everything hurts a lot more and Steph realizes maybe some of that blood  _ was _ hers.

She teeters away from Dick, from the rubble of the building, finds herself a wall and feels along it until it ends. Oh. She’s in an alley. Okay. Where was she going again?

She has to go back to the future, right, but… but how does she do that? 

Steph realizes she’s sitting again, and oh  _ that’s _ definitely her own blood. Her head lolls back and she stares up at the gap in the buildings above her.

Her eyes are heavy, she’s tired. She did… good tonight. She deserves a nap.

Steph lets her eyes slide closed, and  _ this is nice, _ she thinks,  _ this is easy. _ There are a few moments before she fully drifts off, when she’s just floating, where she almost thinks she hears Tim’s voice say  _ “Found her!” _

But that’s silly.

She’s in the past.

And then she passes out.

~•~

Waking up is… an experience. It’s slow, things filtering in bit by bit. At first Steph hears voices, hissed worries and questions that go in one ear and out the other, then slowly feeling starts to come back to her limbs. A faint, tingling, numbness all over her body at first, then the feel of gauze taped to her cheek, and bandages wound tight around her arms and torso. Finally, her thoughts start to take shape, slowly, sluggishly.

Steph blinks as she comes to. She’s on a hospital bed, white sheets pulled up to her chest and an IV drip in her arm. She’s not in a hospital though, if the room’s damp smell is anything to go by. It seems more like the cave’s medical bay.

_ But she’s in the past. _

Steph tries to sit up, adrenaline spiking as everything comes back to her. Her head spins and she feels the familiar tug of stitches in her shoulder before she’s collapsing back against the bed.

“Woah there! Easy, Steph, easy.” There’s the rushed sound of someone getting up before Dick comes into view.  _ Her _ Dick.

He looks a little shaken, eyes wide, hair ruffled, a large rip on one side of his suit. He checks her over, touches feather light as his fingers skirt over her bruises and bandages. His brows crease in concern and he glances at her vitals, whatever he sees making him relax a bit.

“Just a high pulse. Are you feeling alright?” He asks, settling into a chair on her right.

Steph just stares. This is  _ her _ Dick, cheekbones and mullet and all. She’s not in the past, not anymore. Somehow, some way, she’s back in the present, but how? 

“What happened?”

Dick gives her a strained smile. “That’s a tough one to explain, actually.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re still trying to figure it out ourselves.” Dick leans forward to rest his elbows against the edge of the bed. “How about we help fill each other in?”

The next few minutes are spent trading stories. Dick tells Steph about the drug ring, about how it turned out to be a hoax meant to distract them from the real plan: a massive collaboration between Gotham’s underground to wipe out the vigilantes for good. Bruce realized that he’d put Steph in harm’s way, but they got delayed by a fight and by the time they reached the warehouse it was empty and Steph was nowhere to be found.

In turn, Steph explains what happened to her. The time machine, meeting Dick in the past (at which his eyes widen), the fight with the assassin, and finally, waking up here.

“But how did you get me back?” She asks.

“The villains had cleared out, but the time machine was still intact when we got there. Guess they left in kind of a rush. Bruce called in Mr. Terrific and Booster Gold to get it working again, and then we sent Tim and Jason through to get you.”

“How did they find me?”

“Easy.” Dick reaches over and holds up something from the side table, her belt. “We just tracked your distress beacon.”

“Oh.”

“You’re lucky Bruce has been using pretty much the same tech since I started out.” Dick leans back in his chair, examining the belt. “If your beacon relied on satellites that weren’t around back then… who knows, we might never have found you.” 

Steph snorts. “Cheerful. I’m glad to see you’re being as optimistic as ever.”

Dick smiles, eyes soft. “And it’s good to see you awake and kicking.” He says.

“You thought  _ these _ were gonna kill me?” Steph gestures to her wounds. “Not a chance.”

Dick chuckles. “I’m glad.”

There’s a beat of silence, filled only by the distant rustle of bat wings.

“Where is everyone?” Steph asks.

“Out rounding up as many of the people involved as they can.” Dick stands up, stretching. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Oh y’know,” he sets down her belt, moving over to grab something from the med cabinet, “Bruce’s orders. Someone had to patch you up.”

“I’m flattered.”

Dick comes back with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls, setting them down on the side table. “It’s kind of a funny story, actually.” He says, reaching over to remove the gauze from her shoulder. “B actually made me stay because this whole thing reminded him of something that happened when I was just starting out.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it was this crazy night in June of my first year.” Dick begins, dabbing lightly at the wound. Steph winces at the sting. “There were two energy surges around 3am, weird ones, that threw off a bunch of Bruce’s sensors. I somehow dropped off the map in the confusion, and when he finally managed to track me down it was to find Main Street blown half to bits and me lying face first in some parking lot. I was barely conscious, had a nasty head injury, and I was babbling about an assassin and some girl in a cape. If I’m not mistaken,” he gives her a look, “that sounds pretty much like what you just described.”

Steph stares in shock. “You’re telling me you both knew this was going to happen?”

“What? No not at all. I barely remember anything from that night, and B shoved the whole thing into the cold case section when he ran out of leads.” Dick says, carefully re-wrapping her shoulder. “He only made the connection when we got one of the henchmen to squeal.”

“Oh… huh.” Steph wonders why that doesn’t make her feel better. She got to stop a master plan  _ and _ travel back in time without any life altering consequences. Well, she’s going to be bedridden for a week with her injuries, but she much prefers that over being stuck in an alternate timeline. So why does she still feel weird about the whole thing?

Steph has always tried to avoid basing her self worth on others, she’s gone through enough to know that that gets a person nowhere. She’s always considered herself pretty good at the whole self love thing, too. Even if she fucks up or gets yelled at for an hour, she still  _ knows _ she’s a hero.

So maybe she feels off because being with a younger Dick was… nice, in a way. She got to be seen for what she’s capable of  _ without _ all the prerequisites to prove it. Dick didn’t expect her to fail right off the bat, or to succeed because she’d done it once before. She told him she was a hero, and he believed her and fought with her without question.

Mistakes don’t define a person, Steph knows that, but to have someone  _ else _ recognize that, to have them not care, not question, to just accept it… It made her feel good. Really good. 

The night might not have ended perfectly, but to one person, for  _ once, _ she got to be something other than a girl in a costume.

But that one person doesn’t remember that anymore, so yeah. Maybe  _ that’s _ why she feels like crap.

“Hey Dick?” She fixes her gaze on a point on the opposite wall, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Hm?”

“You said you barely remember anything, but what  _ do _ you remember?”

His hands still on the bandage for a moment, and he chuckles lightly before he resumes wrapping the gauze.

“I remember… a purple cape, and explosions, and... a hero.” He looks up on the last word, and when Steph meets his gaze, there’s a small smile playing on his lips. “I thought the whole thing was a dream when I woke up, but when Bruce explained what I told him, I knew somewhere in the back of my mind it was real. I might not remember much, Steph, but I remember that I met a hero that night.”

And she’s sure the grin she gives in return says all it needs to say.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! It’s JD’s birthday today so I thought I’d make an add on to this for such a special occasion nearly four months after originally posting it :-) 
> 
> This takes place basically right after the building explosion, still in the past. Warning for mild descriptions of concussions and concussion effects.

Bruce has almost forgotten what it’s like to feel terrified, or at least he thought as much. He recognizes the familiar tightness in his throat, the flush of adrenaline that makes everything seem fast and slow and sharp as he grips the steering wheel harder, it’s like an old friend. Or an old enemy.

He doesn’t remember much of the drive from when he leaves the cave to when he finds Dick, crumpled and limp in the parking lot of a collapsed finance office downtown. He remembers the lights flashing past through the windows, the rumble of the engine, and the police report of an explosion that made his heart stop.

He remembers thinking  _ not again, not so soon, not him too. _ He remembers speeding through three intersections and pressing on the gas so hard the engine sputters and growls as he pushes the Batmobile harder. He can’t be too late, he can’t have messed up this soon, this bad.

And he didn’t.

Bruce finds Dick and scoops him up into his arms, safe and close, and hauls him back to the car. He’s breathing, he’s  _ breathing, _ and Bruce has never felt more relieved in his life.

He puts the car on autopilot and gets to work checking Dick over. He brushes the sweaty hair away from his forehead and cringes at the blood that sticks to his fingers. Dick may be breathing, but it’s still a miracle he’s alive. He peels off the domino mask carefully and Dick makes a soft noise.

“Brce…?” He cracks an eye open sluggishly, then jolts, hands coming up to grab Bruce’s forearm. He looks wild and confused, scared.

“Hey hey, calm down chum, it’s me. I’ve got you,” Bruce murmurs, resting a gloved palm against Dick’s cheek. The boy sags into the touch, relaxing.

“Wr… ‘s she here?” he mumbles, looking around slowly.

“Who?” Bruce asks, pulling out a pen light and angling Dick’s face so he can check for a concussion. Well… it’s more to tell how  _ serious _ the concussion is, Dick obviously isn’t thinking straight. His pupils only contract slightly when Bruce shines the light on them, and Dick doesn’t even flinch. That’s not a good sign.

“Wr ‘s she?” Dick repeats, ignoring the question as his brow creases in distress.

“Chum I need you to tell me who you’re talking about. Do you remember what happened? Why you left your post?”

Dick stares blankly at him for a moment, eyes wide, and then swallows thickly as his head lolls to one side. “A purple girl. Witha big cape,” he says finally, still not looking at Bruce, not really. 

Bruce grabs one of the emergency kits out of the glove compartment and rips open a pack of cotton balls. He can’t do much to help Dick right now, but he can try and clean him up a bit. He starts dabbing at Dick’s wound, careful not to press too hard. They’ll be back at the cave soon enough, where he can get proper help, but for now he needs to keep him talking, awake. “Mmhmm. Do you remember her name?” he asks.

Dick squints at him for a moment, like he’s trying to process what Bruce said. “She… she…” his eyes slip into a look of far off wonder, “witha  _ big _ cape,” he repeats.

Bruce frowns at that, but doesn’t comment. “Did she hurt you? Did she blow up that building?”

Dick groans and leans against the hand dabbing at his head. It makes Bruce stop, setting aside the cotton ball and threading his fingers through Dick’s hair to just hold him and rub a thumb against his skin, gentle and comforting. Dick hums, eyes closing for a moment before they snap open again, like they did when he woke up.

“‘S she here?” he says again, worry clear in his voice now.

Bruce sighs and shakes his head. “No, buddy, she’s not.”

Dick tries to sit up abruptly at that, swaying and scrabbling at Bruce’s arm.

“Go back! W’ gotta—sh’s back n’ he’s gonn kill you!” He cuts himself off with a pained moan and Bruce catches him as he pitches sideways towards the dashboard.

“Kill—who’s back there Dick?” Bruce looks over his face, more concerned than before. Dick’s not making much sense, but this sounds serious. 

Bruce squeezes his shoulders carefully when Dick groans in pain again. He looks so small right now, so delicate. Bruce never should’ve let him out on the streets, much less  _ alone. _ He thought he was being careful by keeping Dick away from the serious stuff, but he was just being stupid, and now he’s dealing with the consequences. 

Dick takes a shuddering breath, sweat dripping down his cheek, and his eyes roll back a moment before they close. “Hey,” Bruce shakes him slightly, running a hand through his hair and holding tight to the nape of his neck. “Hey keep your eyes open for me hun, come on, there we go.”

Dick looks up at him with wide, wet eyes, still shivering. “She saved,” he pauses to shape the sound on his tongue, “saved yyyuu, ‘n me’n, ‘n—” he gets that awed look again, losing focus, “‘n a  _ big _ cape.”

Bruce smiles bitterly as the car comes to a halt, collecting Dick back in his arms as the roof slides back. 

He carries him to the med bay, briefing Alfred along the way, and settles Dick on one of the beds. He’s too feverish to talk much as Bruce cleans and closes the wound, and dresses the other cuts and abrasions all along his legs and arms.

They put him through a scan and the damage doesn’t seem too bad, enough that Dick might have memory issues for a bit, and he’ll definitely need some time off, but nothing too damaging in the long run. Bruce is relieved for that.

He settles by Dick’e bedside while he rests, squeezing his hand every time he makes a noise in his sleep. Alfred leaves to go back to bed after a few minutes, and it leaves Bruce alone with his thoughts.

None of this makes sense. The mysterious surges, the interference, the strange second signal, Dick apparently going off with…  _ someone _ and ending up in the middle of a disaster.

That’s what really gets him about all this. It’s terrifying to imagine that Dick,  _ that his little boy, _ was involved in something like this, and the stress twists and turns in his gut as he sits by that bedside and waits.

Bruce must doze off at some point, because the next thing he knows he’s being woken up by quiet sobs.

He immediately sits up straight. Dick is crying, fat tears dripping onto his pillow, his eyes puffy and red.

“Chum…” Bruce scoots closer, settling a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Dick glances over at him, eyes still not fully focused. “What if she’s not ok?” he mutters, voice unsteady.

“I’m… I’m sure she’s fine.” Bruce gives him a small smile, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Dick stares at him for a long moment, expression fixed. He looks dazed, though Bruce supposes he is. “I’ll see her when I grow up,” he says, then repeats almost immediately, “I’ll see her when I grow up.”

“Ok,” Bruce says sadly, cupping Dick’s cheek again and allowing himself to feel the warmth under his palm. He reminds himself that Dick  _ will _ be able to grow up after tonight, likely, he suspects, thanks to this mystery girl. “Who… did she help you?” he asks carefully.

Dick nods very slowly. “She saved you,” he whispers matter of factly, and then slowly eases back into his pillow, asleep again.

***

Dick doesn’t remember any of it the next day, beyond some hazy details, and life goes on.

He grows, Bruce grows, and along with them, their family.

Many years down the line, Bruce meets Stephanie Brown.

She is headstrong and fierce, impulsive and irresponsible, and Bruce does not know how, he does not know why, and he does not know when, but he knows as soon as he sees the purple girl with the big cape that somehow, she is the one who saved Dick.

But he doesn’t say a word, and life goes on.

They find themselves on a rooftop one night, just him and Stephanie. She’s just taken out a group of would be bank robbers and is rearing for more action, standing tall and proud as she overlooks the city.

Bruce doesn’t know why he says it then, that simple thank you, but he does.

Stephanie turns to him, one brow raised, and then he sees the cloth of her mask wrinkle in a smile.

“No problem,” she says. 

And he wishes he could thank her a thousand times more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I described eyes a lot in this huh?

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a Robin Swap event to celebrate Robin's 80th anniversary. I got the prompt for a story with Dick and Steph for the wonderful Jerseydevious (go send her some love). I had fun writing Steph for the first time and I hope you all enjoyed!


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